London gripped her hands in her lap. The interview room’s gray walls crowded in on her as she avoided glancing at the large mirrored window on the opposite wall. Two-way. Who was standing on the other side watching her? Detective Snyder with his hard stare? Derek? Heath?
Her belly knotted. Heath. What would he be thinking? He was with her last night. Had he told the detectives? Would that be enough to prove she wasn’t at Henry’s place?
How long had she been here? Thirty minutes? An hour? After refusing to say anything other than declining Detective Reed’s offer to get her some water, she’d been left sitting in a black plastic chair next to a table. There were three other chairs—two opposite and one beside her.
She glanced at the chair next to her. Reserved for her lawyer?
Had Adam called one like he said? She didn’t know the older Justice brother at all. Maybe he’d changed his mind, thought she could be guilty? Had someone called Derek? Her parents?
She dragged in a breath, hating the way it hitched, but unable to stop herself. As each second passed in the too warm, silent room, panic rose inside her, threatening to sweep her away like a flooded river washing over its banks.
Here she was, having been escorted to Police Headquarters by two detectives. Surely this was a mistake? How could they think she’d murder her friend?
And with her pen?
Stabbed through the eye, right into the brain.
How could… She swallowed, not able to stop the shudder running through her body. How could anyone do such a thing?
And to someone like Henry? Tears flooded her eyes. She wiped at them with her now crumbling Kleenex. Her sweet friend would never have that kind of enemy. For God’s sake, Henry avoided human contact. The idea he’d go out and antagonize anyone was ludicrous. The fact he’d befriended London was totally out of character.
And, oh heavens, endeared him to her even more.
Oh, Henry.
She spun in her seat at the sound of the door opening behind her.
Detective Snyder walked in holding a manila folder in his hand. Reed followed carrying a notepad. Both men sat in the chairs opposite her. The second detective’s expression was more guarded than the shorter blond haired Snyder, whose challenging gaze didn’t leave her.
Was this good cop, bad cop?
She opened her mouth to ask what was happening, but was interrupted when a man entered the interview room.
Tall, with short brown hair and dressed in a charcoal gray suit that looked tailored, along with his crisp white shirt, he strode to the chair beside London. “Detectives, I’m Braedon Justice for Ms. Shaw.”
London stared. Justice? A relative of Heath’s? He hadn’t mentioned another brother.
Braedon placed his leather briefcase on the desk but remained standing—forcing the detectives to look up to meet his gaze. “I’m aware my client came voluntarily to answer questions surrounding the death of her friend Mr. Henry Banks.” He removed a yellow legal pad from his briefcase before setting the case beside the table. Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out a shiny ebony pen from the inside jacket pocket. Only then did he sit down next to London.
London stared at the man next to her as he removed the lid of his pen. “I, uh—” she broke off, not sure where to start.
Snyder opened the case file as he addressed Braedon. “Detective Justice called you?”
“Is it any of your business which of my cousins contacted me?” Braedon Justice’s tone was mild, but his espresso gaze bored through Snyder.
London caught the way Snyder sat up straighter in his chair before she glanced back to her…lawyer.
Cousins? From Heath’s adopted mom’s family?
Braedon looked to London. “Adam called me while Seth called Heath.”
So Heath knew. She glanced over to the huge mirrored window. Was he there?
“London.”
Braedon’s firm tone drew her gaze and held it even as the two detectives opposite moved in their chairs, clearly impatient to get started. “When you’re asked a question and are in any doubt, look to me. If at any time I step in, let me do my job.” He spoke with such authority she didn’t dare disobey. Even so, it was his aura of confidence and his compelling stare that had her nodding.
“Okay.” She faced the detectives.
Reed pushed a button on a controller to begin the video recording and named everyone in the room for the record. “Ms. Shaw, you’re here to answer questions regarding the death of Mr. Henry Banks.”
“And Ms. Shaw is also here of her own free will,” Braedon stated.
“She is.” Reed nodded. “For now.”
Her belly dropped at the detective’s qualifier. As if at any moment he’d formally charge her.
But she could clear herself. “Look, I’ve got an alibi for last night. We could—”
“We’ll get to that soon, Ms. Shaw.” Snyder dismissed her words and opened the manila folder. “Mr. Banks’s body has been formally identified by his building’s supervisor, but for the record,”—he pulled out a photo and slid it across the table—“is this the man you know as Henry Banks?
The photo was one his publisher used on his book jackets.
“Yes.” Her voice sounded croaky. She licked her lips and concentrated on the blond detective.
Snyder nodded as he slid over another picture. “And is this your pen?”
The photo showed a purple fountain pen lying on a stainless steel surface. The pen was engraved with her name and stained with blood. Henry’s blood. She closed her eyes. Her throat muscles tightened as a mixture of grief and horror engulfed her.
“Ms. Shaw?” Snyder prompted.
“Y—” Her voice caught in her throat. She coughed and forced out the words. “Yes, that’s my pen.”
Detective Reed wrote a note on his pad before looking up. “When did you last see Mr. Banks?”
“Last night at my book signing.” She tried to keep her breathing even as she spoke. Just answer what you know. “Henry turned up unexpectedly. He’d been invited but declined.”
Snyder’s gaze sharpened. “Why did he decline?”
“Social events aren’t his thing.” Weren’t. “He, uh…”—she swallowed—“he came and wanted to speak to me, but I had readers waiting for me to sign their books.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t leave them. Henry seemed agitated when I said I would talk to him later, and he headed to another part of the store.”
“So he was upset with you?”
“Ms. Shaw can’t explain the thinking behind Mr. Banks’s rationale or state if he was upset with her. She can only impart what she witnessed,” Braedon stated. The underlying censure in his tone could not be missed as he addressed Snyder.
Reed took the lead. “Tell us exactly what happened during the time Mr. Banks was with you last night.”
London shared both conversations with Henry up to and including his dashing out of the store. “He just didn’t seem himself.” She raised her hands, palms up, in front of her. “I left a message on his phone, asking if he was okay, but he never called back.”
Snyder glanced at a piece of paper in the file. “And that phone message was last night?”
“Yeah, I called him from the restaurant I went to with my family.” She sighed. Was this part of their tactics, to draw out the process so she’d fold like a poker player with a dud hand? “This is a waste of time. I was with Heath last night. You can ask him. He’ll vouch for me.”
“We have spoken to Detective Justice, and he confirmed you spent the night with him.”
Relief washed through her. She let out a loud breath. “Then why—”
“Mr. Banks’s estimated time of death was around 4:00 a.m., an hour after Heath left you this morning.”
She could only stare at Snyder as her alibi evaporated into dust.
London slumped in the chair, feeling buried under the weight of their suspicion.
Braedon wrote on his pad as he asked, “That’s still to be confirmed by a post-mortem?”
“True.” Reed agreed. “But Banks has a neighbor, a doctor coming home from his shift at Swedish Medical Center. Banks was entering his apartment when the guy got out of the elevator.”
London glanced at Braedon. He said nothing more, but wrote a note on his paid.
“Is there any way you can prove you never left your house?” Detective Reed asked, pen in hand poised over his notepad.
She hadn’t phoned anyone. Who would at 4 a.m.? All she’d done was chat on Facebook.
She sat up in her chair.
Oh. My. God.
“I was on Facebook.” She leaned forward and rushed out the next few sentences. “I couldn’t sleep once I woke and found Heath had gone. I chatted with Kell via PM.” Thank fucking God for social media.
Snyder frowned. “Kell?”
“A friend of mine.”
“You messaged this person on Facebook?” Snyder asked, drawing her attention. “At exactly 4 a.m.?” His disbelieving tone set London’s teeth on edge.
God, this jerk made everything she said sound like an outright lie. “Before and during. Kell’s an Aussie, so it was evening for her. She’s the owner of a group on Facebook for readers and bloggers and stuff. It’s one of my favorite groups, and she and I were organizing a Facebook party I’m going to hold there in a few weeks.”
And considering the debacle of having over seven hundred people witness in real time two detectives escorting her out of the café, Lord knew what awaited her on her favorite social media platform.
Braedon stopped taking notes. “London’s internet provider would have the information you need to place her at home around the time you believe Mr. Banks was murdered.”
London reached down to her bag at her side. “I can show you.” She pulled out her phone and tapped into her Messenger account. “Here, look.” She handed her phone to Detective Reed. “Each entry is logged with a time.”
The detective studied her phone, sweeping his finger up the screen to read the conversation. He glanced to Snyder. “It’s all here. They chatted until 4:36 a.m.”
“And then I answered some emails.” London looked to both detectives. “It will all be traceable.”
“That doesn’t explain how your pen came to be the murder weapon.”
“It isn’t Ms. Shaw’s job to explain how either.” Braedon pulled off a piece of paper and handed that and his pen to London. “Write down your internet provider and your street address. The cops can get it themselves, but I want a record that we willingly supplied the information.”
London wrote down the information then handed the paper and pen to Braedon.
“Here,” Her lawyer passed the paper to Reed and slid his pen into his jacket pocket. Then he lifted up his briefcase from beside the table. “We’ve played our game of show and tell. You shared your evidence. We’ve proven Ms. Shaw has an alibi for the time of the murder. Now I’m telling you we’re done for the time being.” He placed his pad into his briefcase.
Snyder’s impatient expression turned stony. “That’s not how this works.”
“Yes, it is, Snyder.” Braedon rose from the table and turned to London, holding out his hand, clearly dismissing the detective’s opinion of who was in charge. There was no denying the man was all confidence. Thank the Lord he was her lawyer.
She took his hand and was grateful for the strength of his grip as she took a step away from the table. With a steadying breath, she straightened her spine and smiled at Braedon who then let go of her hand.
Her lawyer glanced between the detectives. “My client is leaving. If you need to speak to her again, you contact me.”
“We will.” Reed stood and looked from Braedon to London. “Thank you, Ms. Shaw, for your cooperation. We understand losing your friend has been hard for you.”
No wonder Reed was the more likable of the two detectives.
She nodded as Reed opened the door to the interview room and led them to the elevator.
Reed’s face and voice held a tone of regret. “Ms. Shaw, nobody enjoys taking in a fellow officer’s family member for questioning. We had no choice but to follow the evidence.”
“I understand.” And she did, but that didn’t mean she wanted to relive the experience any time soon.
The doors to the elevator opened, and she and Braedon stepped in.
“You did well, London.” Braedon punched the button for the lobby.
She glanced sideways at her lawyer. “Thank you. You were”—A godsend?—“great, too.” She cringed at her word choice. So lame. And she called herself an author.
Braedon’s lips quirked. “I had fun. It was even worth the threat to my safety.”
London gasped. “One of the cops here threatened you?”
“Adam.” Braedon’s mouth twitched. “He said he’d cut off my balls if I didn’t walk out of here with you beside me.”
She felt her eyes widen.
“He’s such a kidder.” Braedon winked at her.
Talk about unfazed. Or delusional. “Um, I don’t think—”
“My dad thought his sister was nuts when she first said she was going to adopt four Aussie street kids. But in the end, they proved her faith in them.” Braedon’s tone lost its humor, and his stare held her in place. “You’ve got a good guy in Heath, London.”
He was. But there was something about the way this man, with his razor sharp, legal eagle mind, looked at her as if he was sizing her up to see if she was a good match for his cousin. A tickle of panic raced over her skin as London felt the full weight of his scrutiny.
“We’ve only been on one date.” But…had they? No, he had joined her in a family celebration. And then she’d slept with him. Okay, fine then. She pushed on. “Well, maybe not a date, but, um, you know, we’ve been around each other, and…” As Braedon’s grin returned, she scrambled for a more coherent response. “…we’ll likely be around each other some more.”
Braedon remained silent, but laughter shone in his eyes.
London wanted to bang her head against the metal wall of the elevator.
Thankfully, at that moment, the doors opened and they exited into the lobby of SPD headquarters.
And there, not ten feet away, were her father, Derek and Aidan, plus Seth and Adam Justice.
But it was Heath who first pulled her into his arms.
“Red.” That was all he said, but the roughness of his voice spoke volumes.
With her arms plastered by her sides, all she could do was lean into his chest as his embrace tightened. “I was so scared.” Damn, her voice wobbled. And then came a burning at the back of her eyes. She felt Heath’s kiss on her forehead and then he rested his cheek on her head.
And his arms around her felt…wonderful.
“We established an alibi via her using the internet. I don’t see London facing any more questions. SPD’s been informed they’re to contact her through my office.”
At Braedon’s words, she moved to pull back. Heath’s arms fell from her around her, and London dropped her bag a second before Derek wrapped her in a hug.
“Jesus, kid.” Her big brother’s voice echoed his disbelief at the morning’s events. “They banned Heath, Aidan, and me from going anywhere near your interview.”
“I understand.” London’s words were muffled against Derek’s chest as he squeezed her hard. For some reason, knowing her brothers and Heath hadn’t witnessed her so vulnerable and panicked was a blessing.
Derek let her go so Aidan could repeat the hugging portion.
“How the hell could this happen to my daughter?”
Her dad’s voice. And angry, too. She needed to assure him she was okay.
Stepping back, she got a kiss on the cheek from Aidan, who turned her to her dad.
Kieran hugged his daughter, and not for the first time, London let the familiar strength and comfort of his hug surround her.
“I’m okay, Dad. Honest.” She gazed up, seeing him blink rapidly as if to ward off tears. Dammit, she hated that her family had been put through this ordeal, too. “I had an amazing lawyer looking out for me.”
And speaking of which…
She turned around to face Braedon. “Really, thank you.”
Braedon’s face softened for a moment as he gave her a small smile. “My pleasure, London.” He looked over at Heath. “Cuz, you owe me. I’m thinking Sunday night, NFL double-header, and you’re not allowed to complain once.”
“Christ,” Heath muttered as held out his hand. “Thanks, mate. I appreciate you dropping everything.”
“That’s my job.” Braedon glanced at Adam. “And I can’t resist a challenge.” He turned to London, waved, and headed out of the lobby.
And she had more people to thank. “Adam,”—she bit her lip as the silent man dressed in black stared at her before she addressed the man next to him—“Seth, thank you for…” Saving my ass. Her throat felt tight, and she battled a fresh flood of tears. Without these two guys, she wouldn’t have gotten the help she needed so fast. “…making the right c-calls.” Including one to Heath.
Seth reached out and squeezed her arm. “No problem, honey. We’ll leave you to your family now.”
Adam nodded to her. “Heath will add our numbers to your cell. You need anything, call.” His tone sounded more like an order than a sweet offer, but London wasn’t going to quibble with the guy. Besides, he didn’t give her a chance to thank him for this new act of kindness. Instead, he shot an annoyed glance at Seth as the youngest Justice brother grinned at him. With a shake of his head, he turned to Heath. “Meeting later?”
“That’s a given.” Heath sent meaningful looks at Derek and Aidan who both nodded. He gazed back to Adam. “They’ll be extra guests. I’ll call.”
Adam and Seth gave chin lifts then left.
London guessed she would be a topic of conversation at this meeting, but asking for more details would wait for now.
Her dad moved to steer her toward the exit. “Let’s get you to your mom and grandma. I was home when Derek phoned.”
Aidan stepped away and pulled out his phone. “I’ll let them know she’s out.”
“Kieran, can you give us a minute?” Heath reached out and drew London close, making his request a moot point.
The heavy weight of Heath’s arm on her shoulders felt…so right. A sunray of happiness peaked through the gloom of her morning as she pressed herself closer to him.
Her dad cast a glance between her and Heath. Even though she guessed he didn’t want her out of his sight after this morning’s scare, he gave in. “Of course.” He moved to stand with Derek and Aidan a short distance close by.
Heath led her a few feet away toward a quiet corner decorated with a couple of tall, bushy indoor plants in black ceramic pots. The move afforded them as much privacy as possible in the open lobby with cops and members of the public passing them constantly.
Heck, she didn’t care who saw them. The important thing was Heath Justice was standing in front of her, his expression a mixture of concern and impatience. As he cupped her cheek in his callused hand, she guessed he wanted to keep her close.
And right now, that’s what London wanted the most, too.
****
Heath dragged her close. To hell with her family standing nearby and the people streaming past. He’d been running on adrenaline from the moment Sergeant Avery delivered his news.
“Red, I’ve got to get back upstairs and sort some shit out.” He caught the flash of disappointment in her gaze and fought against the urge to plant his fist through the wall behind him. “Besides, Derek and I made a promise we’d keep the other from punching out Snyder and Reed.”
Her eyes widened, and she put her hands up to his chest. “Don’t you dare get into trouble over me.” She narrowed her eyes at his dismissive snort. “I mean it.”
Heath tightened his arm around her. “London, a fellow cop doesn’t bring in a female who’s a colleague’s sister and another one’s woman and then not expect to get a hug from said brother and other guy.”
London’s mouth opened, as if she was shocked. “I’m your woman?”
He’d definitely taken her by surprise. Not an unreasonable reaction. They hadn’t been on a proper date yet, but today’s extraordinary circumstances had thrown social norms out the window.
“After this morning? Absolutely.”
“Because we slept together?”
London’s cautious tone kicked him into making his stance crystal clear.
He lowered his head closer. “No, because when my sergeant told me you had been brought in, I wanted to go and rip the living shit out of two fellow cops who were simply doing their job. A guy doesn’t do that over a woman he’s just hanging with.”
He caught her quick intake of breath, the way her gaze fixed on him, and the moment her face softened as she seemed to not only accept his words but gain pleasure from the meaning behind them.
Nevertheless, he needed to leave no questions. “I’ve no idea where we’re headed, London. This is early days, and I’m not making declarations of love by calling you my woman. I am saying I’m invested in us spending time together to the point we’ll know if we’re a good fit for each other.” He swept his thumb over her cheek, watching as her eyes closed for a second under his touch. Was she savoring the moment? Christ, he’d fucking love it if she was. The way her fingers pressed on his shirt made his skin tingle for more. “And with that said, I’m thinking we should work toward an actual date at some point.”
He grinned at her answering bubble of laughter.
“That’s a great plan.” She pressed her lips together as her expression turned serious—albeit with a twinkle in her eyes. “Besides, you’re taking on a big risk with a woman as contrary as me.”
His grin turned into a full smile.
But London wasn’t finished. “Nearly as much as the risk I’m taking putting up with someone so anal about his devotion to order and obeying the rules.”
Little brat.
“C’m’ere, you.” He twisted a hand in her hair and dragged her in for a kiss. What started as a fun way to shut her up turned deeper as a dam of emotion over this morning’s events burst for him. His other arm clamped her against him, and he felt her fingers curl to grip his shirt. This wasn’t about passion, but him wanting to comfort and reassure her.
Unfortunately, the lobby of police headquarters wasn’t the ideal location.
He broke their kiss and rested his forehead against hers. “I’ll call later. If you’re home, I’ll bring some takeout.”
She smoothed his shirt with her hands. “I’d like that.”
He stood back and, with Derek and Aidan, watched her father guide London out of the building. “Depending on what’s happening with London, we’ll meet at my place late tonight. None of us can talk here, and there’s too much I want explained about Banks and how he ended up with London’s pen in his eye.”
“Agreed.” Aidan shoved his phone in the back pocket of his pants. “I gotta get out to a case. I’ll check in later.” With a low wave, he headed down to the parking garage.
Heath and Derek took the elevator back up to their floor. On the way to their desks, they saw Reed and Snyder in the meeting room with Sergeant Avery. From the frowns on their faces, all three looked frustrated.
Heath banked his anger at his colleagues. Reed was solid, good at his job, and had been doing it for as long as Heath. Snyder was a condescending little prick, newly promoted to plainclothes who wanted to be SuperCop, but Heath had never seen him cut corners before.
“I’ve gotta get some fresh air,” Derek muttered as they walked past the meeting room’s glass wall. “Get that list off your desk. We’ll grab a sandwich and then spend a couple of hours chasing Vargas’s contacts. How much do you want to bet none will provide him with an alibi?”
Heath already knew the answer, but they had to cover all their bases. “I’m not taking that bet.”
Derek agreed. “We’re going to end up with exactly what we have now—a dead suspect and no other likely candidates.”
Heath grabbed the sheet of names and addresses from his desk. He glanced to see if he needed anything else. His workspace was always neat, everything laid out where it should be, no second guessing required.
London’s words filtered into his memory. “…someone so anal about his devotion to order.” Was he that anal? He glanced at his pens and pencils sitting in an old coffee cup. Wasn’t that simply being organized? It wasn’t like he made sure all his pencils were sharpened and laid out in a precise pattern like stakes in a picket fence.
“You coming?” Derek glanced back at him as he headed out again.
“Yeah.” Jesus, now he was second guessing himself.
As Derek predicted, not even two hours later, they’d tracked down most of Vargas’s contacts—a polite term for fellow pimps, associated criminals not currently incarcerated, and junkie hookers. Just like his family, none of them could place Vargas during the time of Holmes and Jacobsen’s murders. Even Heath had to admit they were unlikely to get much further on the case, at least for now.
Back at Headquarters, they were at their desks. Heath started entering his notes on the computer.
Sergeant Avery came to stand beside Derek’s desk. “London’s alibi stacks up. She’s in the clear.” Avery sighed. “I know this morning was rough for your family,” he said to Derek. “And others.” This to Heath. “But the murder weapon was her pen, and she had to be questioned.”
“We still barred from the case?” Derek asked.
Avery nodded. “Nothing’s changed except that London is cleared for the time of Banks’s murder. The weapon has been confirmed as London’s property, and we have to establish how it ended up at Banks’s apartment.” Avery glanced at Vargas’s case file on Derek’s desk. “Got an update for me?”
“Nothing solid. Nobody will provide Vargas an alibi for the time of the double murder, or the days afterward.” Derek threw down his pen, sending it bouncing precariously close to the edge of his desk. “I’ve got a feeling we’ll end up with no way to prove definitely that he’s our murderer.”
Avery frowned. “But we’ve got the eyewitness.”
Heath leaned back in his chair. “True, but we’d have liked some DNA or other physical evidence as extra weight. We’ve organized a check of CCTV in the areas surrounding the hotels and a few other places from the time of the murder to when he was apprehended, just in case he was hiding somewhere we missed.” Heath shrugged. “We’ll see what comes up.”
But his gut told him Vargas wouldn’t appear on the tapes. There was an element about this case that troubled him, but what that was escaped him. He’d missed… Fuck. Something. A piece of evidence or something someone said. A clue? Whatever the item was, it niggled at the back of his mind like a pebble in a shoe, constantly annoying, and making itself felt.
Avery nodded. “Good. Keep me informed. I’d like to have something more to report upstairs soon.” Their sergeant moved off to another detective’s cubicle.
Heath glanced at his phone. Derek had called London on the drive back to Headquarters. Mercy was driving London home since her car was still parked in the alley behind Harper’s building.
He tapped London’s contact on his screen.
“Hello?” London’s voice sounded tired.
“Hey, Red.”
“Hi.” The softness in her voice had him wishing he was there beside her. “I’m glad you called. Did Derek tell you I’m home?”
“Yeah. You okay?”
“Mercy’s here with me.” Not exactly an answer to Heath’s question. “I’ve got a heap of Facebook crap to work through.” She sighed. “I was hosting a Facebook live chat when the detectives arrived at Seven Dishes, and people watching saw and heard everything that happened. So now there’s lots of innuendo and speculation, especially since Henry was a fellow author.”
Jesus. “Close down your laptop, London. You don’t need to cope with that right now.”
“I do, Heath. I have to get on top of this right now. Otherwise, it will blow completely out of proportion.”
“Give yourself an hour. Maybe lie down and then—”
“You don’t understand how Facebook works,” London cut in. Heath cursed at hearing the strain in her voice. “I have this one chance to take charge of this mess. If I don’t, then the false stories take on a life of their own until they become the perceived reality. Just—” she snapped, followed by a pause as if she was counting to ten. “I have to get this done.”
Obviously, he wasn’t helping, and after the day London had battled through, he guessed she was pretty much at her patience limit. “Okay, Red. But remember one thing.” He continued before she had a chance to interject. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“That’s true, but the facts don’t make for a juicy story.” Her voice seemed weighed down by weariness as she ended the call. “I’ll see you later.”
Heath looked at his phone and sighed.
“Problems?” Derek asked as he looked over their desks.
Heath explained London’s predicament.
“Christ, she can’t win today.” Derek sat back in his seat. “I’m not on Facebook, but every time I hear people talking about it, there’s some guy getting caught out cheating, women breaking up friendships, or whatever the fuck.” Then his eyes widened. “Damn, Justice. That’s how Dillon started the problems for your family, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Despite London’s assertions earlier, he knew all too well the power of false accusations shared over social media. But having a panicked response wouldn’t help either. “I’m going to give her breathing room for a while, but come five, I’m out of here.”
Just before the appointed hour, another visitor stopped beside Heath’s desk.
He looked up to see Agent Tollison dressed in his standard dark suit and tie. “Afternoon, Tollison. You meeting with Faulkner and Kennedy?” The agent was often here, working Fox’s murder investigation with SPD.
“We’ve just finished a briefing.” Tollison sat, uninvited, in the visitor’s chair next to Heath’s desk. “I hear you’ve had a busy morning.”
Heath leaned a forearm on the side of his chair. “You could say that.” Though he wasn’t sure precisely what part of his morning the agent was referring to.
“Including an early morning meeting.” Tollison’s casual tone belied the sharpness of his gaze.
Bishop.
“I take it Adam updated you?”
Tollison nodded. “It’s good to know the exact leverage used to force Fox’s involvement with the nightclub deal.” His brows drew together. “We may have a couple of developments in regards to other potential stooges for the Ivy League cartel. All yet to be confirmed, but it’s progress.”
“Adam working with you on that?”
The agent’s dry laugh held no humor. “When he’s not being a pain in my ass, along with his client. It’s a contest between him and Mrs. Fox for who is the most stubborn.” He shook his head. “I had a meeting at her house yesterday over tea and scones. She was answering questions about her husband’s friends and then lectured me that a society wife knows when to block out certain parts of the conversation even when it’s happening around her. All the time, your brother grinned his ugly face off as he sat on Elizabeth Fox’s brocade sofa.”
Heath was still amazed at the pairing of the society queen and his ex-black ops brother. From what Seth had shared, the two were getting on great. “Adam swore he’d hand over any evidence he found.” And Heath really fucking hoped he would keep his word.
“He will.” Tollison rose from the chair. “In his own goddamned time.” He nodded to both Derek and Heath. “Later, gentlemen.”
Derek watched the agent walk toward the major incident room. “You think Adam would hold anything back from Tollison?”
“I think Adam would do whatever was in the best interests of his case, and only then would he share whatever evidence he had.” Heath didn’t want to think about what Adam might keep secret. He glanced at his watch. Ten past the hour. “I’m outta here; you leaving?”
Derek nodded and rose. “There’s nothing more we can achieve here today. I’m going home to shower. Call me to confirm our meeting tonight.”
“Will do.” Since his and Derek’s case against Vargas was going nowhere, helping London was exactly what he needed. At least for tonight, he could focus on her and finding ways to banish the stress of her day.
He had a reputation for planning and executing his way to a positive result. With London as the benefactor of his endeavors, that was all the motivation he needed.